


Don't Make Me Separate You

by dotfic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-04
Updated: 2007-04-04
Packaged: 2017-10-26 00:18:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/276466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dotfic/pseuds/dotfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set pre-series. Sam and Dean won't stop bickering. John decides to step in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Make Me Separate You

**Author's Note:**

> A story in six drabbles, written for supernatural100 prompt #68, "break."

I.

"Enough!" John bellowed.

The boys froze with Sam's foot digging into Dean's stomach, Dean's arm snaked around Sam's neck in a chokehold.

He disentangled them, work complex as undoing a double overhand knot. They'd been sniping at each other all morning until finally it turned to name-calling, kicks, and yells.

"In here." John shoved Dean into one of the bedrooms, handling him like he was six not fourteen. Dean took it quietly, but Sam squirmed and protested as John pushed him into the room opposite.

"You two stay in there until sunset."

From behind the doors there was startled silence.

*

II.

Well, at least he wouldn't have Sam literally hanging off of him anymore.

Dean flopped onto the bed and stared at the items on the small bookcase: several books, a bird's nest, a polished stone, comics.

Dad had shoved him into Sam's room, and Sam into Dean's room, but he doubted Dad had noticed or even cared.

Shit, Sam better not be messing with any of his stuff.

Dean re-read the comics (they'd all been his first anyway). He looked under Sam's bed and snorted with disgust and satisfaction; his little brother was more of a slob than he was.

*

III.

They'd only been in the apartment two weeks, but the room already looked and felt like Dean. A stack of cassettes leaned drunkenly off the nightstand next to a half-eaten slice of moldy pizza. Sam grimaced. There were dirty socks on the chair, nothing on the floor.

He rummaged through one of Dean's duffel bags and found two hunting knives, a bag of rock salt, and a decrepit book on land monsters that Sam had already memorized. Dean would kill him for poking around in his stuff.

There were magazines under the mattress. Sam opened one and his eyes widened.

*

IV.

The angle of the sun changed. Dean lay on his back on the floor with his feet propped carelessly on the bed.

Sam had better not be touching his stuff.

Little twerp.

Dean sat up and grabbed the bird's nest off the top of the bookshelf. He turned it in his fingers, the twigs tickling his palm.

On the nightstand, there was a small spiral notebook, open. The page was covered with Latin passages: protection rituals, wardings against evil. Some Dean had never heard before.

The bird's nest still tucked in his hand, he wondered how Sam had found them.

*

V.

Sam slid another cassette into the boom box and hit PLAY. He'd adjusted the volume to the second lowest notch so Dad couldn't hear. Yeah, Dean would kill him dead. Sam didn't even like AC/DC, but for some reason he wanted to listen to it right then. It was too quiet.

He took out one of the hunting knives, left it in its leather sheath, and thought that if he asked nice, Dean might show him how to hit the bullseye of a target.

 _Spoiled brat._

 _Freak._

Sam tucked his legs up and put his forehead down on his knees.

  
*

VI.

"You two are quiet this evening." John watched his boys across the table. Their silence was subdued, muted.

It made him downright nervous.

The boys were a pair of spent storm clouds until Sam jerked in his seat and Dean twitched.

Strike; retaliation.

"Boys," John murmured warningly.

Dean reached for the iced tea while Sam stared down at his peas as if he were thinking of pelting them at Dean.

"Guess that time-out session was a good idea. Maybe we should try that again someday."

"No, sir," said Dean.

Sam's head went up sharply in surprise.

"What?" John said.

"Nothin'."


End file.
